Taking Risks
by Agent Pumpkin
Summary: Feeling you deserve a good break, you decide to take a walk outside. The moonlight dances ahead of you, your eyes fixated on the dirt at your feet. It was the same old training yard... and yet it was somewhere new entirely. Jean, however, doesn't seem to see the magic in the surroundings, more so... you. Jean/Reader fic.


**Okay, so this is my Jean/Reader fanfiction. I've wanted badly to write something for this man, but I'm not quite sure how to do it, ahah. I suck, basically. But hey, you can still read my embarrassing efforts in the hopes that you'll at least pick on something you like, whether it be a theme or a particular sentence. If I'm so lucky.**

**Another thing that should be noted? I'm taking requests for characters in Reader/_ stories. Meaning you can go to my profile, read through the journal up there, and then comment a character you'd like me to write about, if any. Or, if you'd like me to stop; I'd quite like to stop, I'm making a fool of myself. But anyhow, on with the fic. Oh, this will just be a one-shot, as will most (if not all) of my Reader/_ stories, unless stated otherwise. ALSO, this one is simply a general one; there's not much of a story; no training, no background (or not much), it's just a soft writing /Reader**

**So yeah – please tell me what'cha think. **

So many days you'd been serving here and not once had you taken the liberty of going out at night. Perhaps the fact that it was prohibited was what put you off... or rather, the verbal punishment that would follow straight after from Keith Shadis and his terrorising stature. You shuddered, trying to brush off the eerie feeling that had settled in the pit of your stomach. On a lighter note, perhaps you just saw no need for it until now, but now, all was pleasant as you trudged slowly around the length of the outside area, the cool midnight breeze brushing your face. In any other situation, the silence would have been daunting and ominous, but as you made your way past the boy's 'dorms', you couldn't help but feel grateful for the solitude.

You made your way down to the training yards, going past the place where you had sparred with the other soldiers, eventually stopping at the tall wooden posts in which supported manoeuvre gear when training. Casually, you rested your back against one of the colossal posts and sighed outwardly, smiling at the tranquillity. You deserved the peace – you'd worked bloody hard during your time here! The triumph you had received in turn for your offerings was worth it though.

You reckoned your time here couldn't get any more peaceful. For once in what felt like a lifetime, the peace did not feel limited. It was a heavy hope to carry on your shoulders, hoping that it remained, but it was something that you were willing to do. You doubted anything could spoil it actually-

"Oi, [First]."

Your head immediately snapped towards the sound, a faint flicker of panic flashing through your eyes. When you saw a tall shadow some distance away, you relaxed a little; said relaxation was short-lived as a familiar young man stepped out of the shadows, usual devilish smirk in place. You took a moment to study him in the silence of night; his sharp, angular features made him seem unapproachable from a distance – to be honest, that judgement wasn't _too _invalid. He was an arrogant egotist after all, or so you'd learnt in your two years of training alongside him. He was a good-looking fellow, you supposed, with his copper-bronze hair and his tall and broad physique, but his blunt personality often caused friction and not just with you, but with a lot of the other train-ees. Even his best friend, Marco (of so you recalled), was a little wary about him, mainly because Jean had a motor-mouth that could point out even the most well-hidden flaws.

"Jean," you said quietly, eyes slightly brighter due to the moonlight catching them. "What are you doing here...?" you managed to question, narrowing your eyes slightly with suspicion. He continued to move closer to you, his normal honey-coloured eyes finally meeting yours, his eyebrows furrowing in apparently good-natured competition.

"I could ask you the same thing." he snickered, challenge residing on his face, the competition a visage of power and control. You weren't having any of it; you were just as good as he was! Maybe even a little better, or so your indignation nagged. He, on the other hand, would have readily disagreed, but he was Jean and Jean was an uncompromising asshole. You returned his snicker, a 'sentiment' he considered particularly confrontational.

"I asked _you_." you argued meekly, fiery as ever. You wouldn't be bested by Jean Kirschtein; perhaps somebody else of higher calibre, but not by him! Despite your witty response to him, a half smile was scrawled across your pretty face, your features surprisingly warm. The brown-haired lad grinned a sharp somewhat arrogant grin, eyes searching for a challenge. He didn't find one, though he continued to search diligently. There was an air of silence around you – though not awkward. More like the silence between a preying lion and a docile zebra. Both of your roles were undetermined; they changed much too often, both of you having your fair share of ups and downs in terms of things going your way.

Before you could register it, the arrogant soldier had made his way to the same pole you were (still) leaning against, propping himself against the opposite side of it, tilting his head up to look at the dark midnight sky; effectively, you were back-to-back with one another. There were no words for a while, just agreeable silence.

Then it ended.

"Can't sleep?" Jean asked in his usual lacking way. He wasn't a word-smith and saw no need to use a huge bundle of words to string together a fake reassurance or anything of the like. His expression, much like his tone, remained particularly indifferent, his eyes slightly cloudy as compared to their usual alive-with-snark state. As if he was taking a break from grating on your nerves. He was as blank as an empty diary waiting to be filled, and boy, you sure didn't like it, even from watching him out of the corner of your eye. Taking the long silence as a signal that he was correct beforehand, he continued on: "Why not?"

Sighing, you shrugged; why not, that was indeed the question and the answer, like many, you did not know. You were a girl of many talents, a girl of much standard, but not even you could answer everything that occurred in the turret of confusion that was your head. The shift of boots against the gravel and dirt reminded you to speak up.

"I don't know, Jean," you muttered, casting your gaze to the dirt-ridden floor. Meanwhile, your speech was enough to surprise him; he figured you would have a motive of some kind. Briefly, the tall boy took a moment to think about how you were: aggressive and even vicious on occasion. Most girls, he mused, were in some way or another, venomous and vindictive (even more so than boys sometimes, he would confidently argue). You could have been making an effort to avoid one of the other girls, or have come outside to cool off from an argument, he didn't _know_. Even if it was a bad excuse, piss-poor and pathetic, he at least expected something. You were normally more creative than this. Your lack of it bothered him. Irked him even. Slowly, his eyes narrowed.

"Are you sure?" he asked incredulously, not completely buying the story. You nodded, swallowing your slight nerve like a spoonful of foul medicine. Suddenly, you rubbed the surface of your arms; the hairs on them had prickled as you quickly felt the cold envelop you, rude and uninvited. You huffed a little, finding the once-calming breeze to be a huge irritation right now. As the wind continued to ship at your bare skin, you cursed your inability to carry your jacket with you. You mentally face-palmed; you should have guessed you'd need it at some point, even if it was not your intention to stay outside for very long. Your feet shifted. If anybody was to see you and Jean out here at this hour, you'd surely be punished fitfully. Looking over at the young man, he didn't seem to care that much, expression aloof and indifferent as always.

Jean looked at you as you began to shiver and rose a brow. You disregarded him, trying to focus on feeling warm. It wasn't working. Your shudders were getting rather violent now as the night slipped into cooler temperatures.

"What's the matter, [Last]? Feeling chilly?" the male smirked. He couldn't deny a slight pang of guilt as he watched you convulse, shifting from one foot to the other, but it wasn't enough for him to shut up. He ran a hand through his hair, as if steadying some erratic nerve. Meanwhile, you said nothing – just stood in dignified silence. What an asshole! You growled to yourself a little. Just what gave him the right to be so damn jerk-ish?!

"No," you spat, trying to seem unaffected by the cold but to no avail. Jean continued to snicker until you looked at him sharply, to which he adopted a blank expression, as if he had never been poking fun of you in the first place. "Fine," you spoke up once more, his eyes shifting to you in reluctant silence. "I'm fucking freezing."

Yet again, he rose a brow, his snickers ceasing for real.

"Why didn't you just bring your jacket with you?" he remarked, looking you up and down for a moment. Something about his gaze was powerful and the way his eyes raked down your body – most definitely unintentionally, though it didn't stop your mind wandering, regrettably – was enough to make you blush a little.

"I-I didn't think I'd need it. I was only supposed to be out here for a moment or two." Your voice was thick with trepidation as you silently considered how angry one of the leaders would be if they caught you and Jean out here, way past 'lights out'. The feeling was enough to give you even _more _of a chill, to make you doubt your safety; though your mind was shrouded by premonition, you found your thoughts drifting to other more important things – such as your slightly chattering teeth and your tinted-blue arms.

By now, Jean looked concerned. He wouldn't admit the burden of thinking about you or own the responsibility of worrying about you though. He put it down to not thinking clearly when he began to shrug off his jacket with a heavy sigh. Immediately, he felt the cold whip at his arms, him blushing out of embarrassment when he recalled that he was dressed in a weak night-shirt, the fabric quite flimsy and a miserable grey against his skin. Even he had had the sense to take his jacket with him upon deciding to follow you... damn it, why couldn't you just think things through?! Finishing his inward complaining with a secretive huff, he handed you his jacket, keeping his head turned away from you. You blinked as you looked at the jacket, feeling guilty as you slowly accepted it.

"Jean..." you mumbled, unable to keep the surprise from your voice. He didn't look at you, only acknowledged you had said his name with a disregarding grunt.

"Just put it on." Jean ordered weakly, sighing briefly. He wasn't sure which fact was more strange to him: the fact that you had left your pride at the door and actually _accepted his help_, or the fact that he actually _wanted _to help you, even if it meant sacrificing his own well-being for a while. Jean wasn't selfish (well, not often...)... but he wasn't a saint either. Not like his friend Marco; now he truly was the human embodiment of Jesus. The rustle of activity as you slipped his jacket on earned his attention. He turned his head towards you, only to stare a moment longer than he should have.

His jacket was too big for you – that much was obvious. The tips of your fingers only just peeked out of the long sleeves and the tall collar tickled your slight-red cheeks. On Jean, it reached jst below the beginning of his waist; on you, it finished half way down. The shoulder pads also sagged, your shoulders not broad enough to fill them. He couldn't help but hold his gaze, honey-brow irises glinting briefly in the dark. You caught his eye, your blush deepening in hue a little, your mind filling with self-conscious doubt. All of a sudden, as if he couldn't bear to look at you any more, he tore his gaze away.

"L-Lets just get back. I'm fucking freezing!" he exclaimed, his complaint slick with his usual profanities.

"All right, Kirschtein, hold your horses." Something about the sentence made his head snap up to you, a sharp glare aimed directly at your eyes that were narrowed at him. You relented your annoyed countenance, wondering what you'd said.

Walking with him was a joy, though one you would never admit to – not to his face at least. His face. Glancing to the side, you gave him a sly look-over. His features were of good masculinity, his sharp chip and nose adding an odd sense of charm to his otherwise boy-ish appearance. You sometimes failed to recall that he wasn't as old as he looked, height and charm-wise, though when it came to insults, he was the youngest of the bunch. But you knew all was not over; there was something else that was on your mind. Something that you weren't sure you could ask... but who were you to listen to Kirschtein and his one-dimensional rules?

"...Jean...?"

"Hah?"

"...why'd you decide to follow me?"

Jean stopped walking, forcing you to stop as well. You screwed your eyes shut, cursing your curiosity, before clearing your expression of any regret and pivoting on your feet to face him. He was eyeing you with the strangest sense of sharpness – not quite friendly, but not quite hateful. Like a child being caught doing something they weren't supposed to do. He then cleared his throat, as if wanting to make sure you were at full attention. Needless to say that the sound made you jump slightly, the sound rough in the otherwise silent night.

"You're not a bad person, [First]." he said slowly, trying to find the correct words to explain what he meant. He only made you more curious. Of course you weren't! So why was doubt suddenly planted in your mind...? "What I mean is," he paused again, visibly cringing, obviously not agreeing with the words that came to his head. Meanwhile, you stood in confused silence, though you couldn't deny slight fascination whenever his expression changed. Thinking about it now, Jean had one of the most varied "expression pallets" you'd ever laid eyes on. His mouth seemed to twist itself into so many shapes in so many different situations... and almost all of them suited him. It was rather odd, though you found yourself smiling a little as he continued to struggle. "Well, I just thought it'd be a good idea. You're... you're obviously half-assed, you couldn't even bring your own jacket with you."

You raised a brow.

"Well, that was the most terrible set of words I ever heard." you deadpanned, expression obviously not amused. He seemed to crumble a little, as if discouraged. He was sure it would at least gain some kind of argument... but nothing. Perhaps he wanted you to kick and scream and argue with him, just as most of your previous encounters over the past two years had resulted in. Though hardly any of your tiffs over the past years had resulted in a major fall-out, you were always reduced to childish squabbles and silly arguments.

"Fine," he snapped, suddenly staring straight at you, knocking your bravado off balance as your face slipped back into its curious state. "Can't blame a guy for being curious. When I saw you leaving, I just couldn't help myself. I was curious as to what you were doing. You could have been up to anything," when he noticed your skeptical expression, he reared defensively. "It's not so outrageous, y'know, [First]! There was the person who murdered the two titans that Hanji was experimenting on – the word got around fast. We still don't know who's done it, as far as I was concerned, it could have been you with the sneaking around you were doing!"

You didn't agree with his accusations... but you could at least understand. At least he had some kind of reason – and it wasn't a weak one either. You nodded your head slowly, some of your soft hair falling in your face as you did so; this seemed to not go unnoticed by Jean as he reached forward to move it. When you gave him a "what the hell are you doing?" look, he backed off and mumbled something about it being "annoying", leaving you to do it yourself, tucking the strand safely behind your ear once more with a light sigh. Looking at Jean, his lips were pressed into a tight, narrow line.

"And I care about you."

That sentence was enough to knock you off balance completely. Jean Kirschtein, the argumentative git of the bunch, the one who could abuse somebody's flaws until they went insane, the one who could successfully come up with a sarcastic response to literally everything anybody could say, appreciated you, and cared about you. You blinked in startled... well, you weren't sure what it was. It was far from horrific (actually, something about the simple comment had warmed you up a little), and it wasn't uncomfortable either... but you wouldn't go so far as to claim it was exhilarating or exciting. It was just...

Nice.

"Well," you mumbled, about to show you reciprocation.

"You don't need to do that..." he grumbled, turning his head to look at the floor. "I can accept it if you don't care."

Those words struck a chord in you but you decided not to question it, ever sensitive. You nodded your head slowly, your lips curling into a tiny smile.

"Just for the record, I do. You're a real asshole sometimes... but you've got your priorities right. You care about people, no matter how often you choose to show it." You chose your words carefully, not wanting to either bore him or stroke his ego too much. Jean could become _really _arrogant if properly 'encouraged'. When he nodded and began walking again, you started to follow him once more. Right then, he had forgotten about the cold. In all honesty, your comment about him was what warmed him most. He wasn't used to receiving praise (though he sometimes claimed to other soldiers that he basked in it, just to save face) and he couldn't help but feel a little bashful and hot upon being called out for his good qualities that everybody seemed to have overlooked until now.

You reached the dorms in no time, the walk being disappointingly short. You turned to him and bowed your head slightly.

"Thank you, Jean." You smiled, eyes bright against the moonlight. Despite how late it was when you went out, you doubted it was much later. He smiled back, the movement tugging at his lips like a dog tugged at a leash: light, but forceful. He couldn't help it. Something about you just made him _want _to smile. You stared at him a moment longer before turning on your heel and making your way into the dorms once more, getting into bed with a content smile on your lips.

As you disappeared, Jean made a mental note to talk to you more in the near future; you had been so sweet, even if you had exchanged words of conflict and disagreement. He wasn't bothered by them. Once he reached the door of his own dorm, he opened it and was suddenly hit by a blast of warm air. Which in turn reminded him how cold he had been.

...which in turn reminded him you still had his jacket.

He turned on his heel, but then decided against it, simply standing there in a painful stupor of decision making, before sighing and making his way into the dorm and getting himself back into bed, remembering to sleep facing away from the window this time; if he was to see you again, outside like that, he knew he would tag you. He wouldn't be able to resist. And then he'd get no sleep at all. Pulling the covers up to his neck, he settled down to sleep, the soft noises of all the boys doing little to deter his determination to sleep.

Unbeknownst to the copper-haired man, you were cuddled warmly in bed, and hadn't removed the jacket from your body. His warmth was still lingering around you and the fact that it didn't fit you properly only added to extra comfort as you snuggled further into the usually-tight fabric, remembering just who gave it to you. You fell asleep with a small smile etched into your face, as if it had meant to be there all along.

Perhaps you'd have to start taking risks more often.

**X x**

**So, my first attempt, and it's pretty weak I guess, but whatever. I hope you enjoyed this fic – I liked writing it. For a change. It's often a chore; let me know if you want more too. I'd be more than happy to do more. Also, because this isn't a continuation, I can understand if it feels rushed towards the end, but there wasn't much of another way to close it. Eheh... but if demand gets high enough, and time get more plentiful, then I will definitely do a continued fic some time. It was a joy to write; I hope I got Jean's character right. He was fun to write for too, haha.**


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